Farewell to my Kitchen Sister

Farewell to my Kitchen Sister

“Find something you’re passionate about and keep tremendously interested in it.”—Julia Childs

Lana Lee Jones D’Agostino, July 18, 1955 – April 25, 2018

Friday, April 27, 2018. Lana, you’re missing the conversation about your life that’s happening as we listen to your brother Michael and wife Megan read your obituary we are crafting. Although you made your presence known when you knocked over the framed tribute President O’Bama signed to our father-in-law Vic thanking him for his military service. That passage you approved was about being a strong [and independent] woman—Steve’s addition.

Strong and independent. Yes indeed. But also tender and loving.

We knew you as our sister. Had conversations over the years about your work as a journalist. But as we sister-in-laws shared last night at your viewing, we really didn’t know the breadth of your professional life. Until you died.

Steve is collecting your press badges for your memorial service. They tell a story in their own right. 911 In New York City. The elevation of Cardinal O’Malley in Rome,  The Boston marathon bombings. The Whitey Bolger story. JFK Junior’s plane crash. These were some of the big ones. You covered thousands of smaller stories that kept us informed and connected to the world outside our bubbles. Over 20,000 in your 30-year career.

Isn’t it a pity that we don’t get to glimpse our impact while we’re here. Perhaps a tad narcissistic, some might think. Yet it can also be an opportunity to measure how much more there is to do with whatever days are marked on our earthly calendar. Your days reflected how deeply you cared about social justice and truth telling. And family.  Read the rest of this entry

Unconditionally Mom, part à deux

Unconditionally Mom, part à deux

It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.                   —ee cummings

 

On Saturday, April 14, I will stand on the stage at the 15th Annual Baltimore CityLit Festival with my Listen To Your Mother cast sisters and do a repeat reading of my 2015 essay on motherhood.

I auditioned for LTYM in winter 2015 after I read the poster asking people to read their original writings on motherhood. Hadn’t written a word yet, but my heart knew I had a good shot when I contemplated writing about my twin gay sons’ coming out. It’s a good story. I have decent skill as a wordsmith. My sons said, “Go for it Mom.” So—I wrote, auditioned and made it.

I rehearsed with my cast sisters, reading with ease and a bit of flair. The day of the performance, I thought, “I’ve got this! I’m used to public speaking and performing.” What I didn’t factor, was the hefty emotion of telling this very personal story with my sons and husband in the audience. I was at turns confident and a hot mess. Looking up where those pieces of my heart sat, I expressed the depth of my mother-love. My sons were laser-focused on me, trusting me to tell it true—that very intimate part of their story. I did them proud, so they told me after the show. Read the rest of this entry

The Cookie Maker

The Cookie Maker

Life doesn’t come with a manual. It comes with a mother.

Happy 60th Mom!You would have turned 90 today. December 15 is the fine day you arrived, aptly named Joyce to herald in the joy of the Christmas season.

I think of you every day. Little memories come to me as I glance at your photo on my jewelry chest. It’s the old snap of us on my 4th birthday. We are looking up bright-eyed with happiness at the unseen photographer. Sometimes I stop and study the images, wondering about our lives then and how we would share it now.

Your cookie baking Christmas tradition binds us tenderly together in this season of joy. You loved making delicious trays of cookies and candies for us, dear friends and co-workers. I remember tins and Tupperware stacking up as you baked. You began just after Thanksgiving since you had such a huge volume to produce.

Your artistry was masterful as you assembled the trays with delectable confections. Round balls, cut-outs, drop cookies, bars, tiny pastry shells of pecan pie. Chocolate peanut butter balls danced among the sugary orbs. The tins and platters were also part of the gift, selected with the receiver in mind. Ours were child-themed for your twin grandsons. I still have those trays, and the dinged up Courier and Ives tins that housed your treats.

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Choosing Joy on Mother’s Day

Choosing Joy on Mother’s Day

All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother.—Abraham Lincoln

Mom, Debbie & me

Mom, Debbie & me

Grandma Joyce & Baby Boinkers

Grandma Joyce & Baby Boinkers

Mom & Dad in finery

Mom & Dad in wedding finery

Grandma's lap is best!

Grandma’s lap is best!

Happy 1st Birthday Adam & Alex!

Happy 1st Birthday Adam & Alex!

Aunt Ellie, Aunt Bev & Mom. Sisters!

Sisters! Aunt Ellie, Aunt Bev & Mom

Happy 60th Mom!

Happy 60th Mom!

My your pie is yummy Joyce (Debbie, Mom, Carmen, Bev)

My your pie is yummy Joyce (Debbie, Mom, Carmen, Bev)

Story time with Grandma

Story time with Grandma. (Adam l, Alex r)

It’s the 20th Mother’s Day without my mom Joyce. TWENTY YEARS. That’s a lifetime. Enough days woven together to raise kids, change careers, move and relish life while tromping through the daily grind. All spent without advice and support from the woman who loved me unconditionally.

I think Mom would say I’ve done a good job of raising my family. She told my sister I was a “good little mother” in the early years of parenting our twin sons. Thank you Debbie for sharing that with me. I’ve held onto that gift more than you can ever know, replaying it over and over when the bumps were especially rough.

Do I think of Mom every day? No. Oh sure I see our birthday photo that lives atop my jewelry chest each day as I make the bed. I say a silent hello. But I don’t always pause to truly think about her. The many ways she lived a rich, spiritual life. How she dealt with a devastating diagnosis that almost took my sister’s life. Of a husband who successfully fought mental demons while she raised her first-born, worked full time and ran the household. Sitting bed-side by her sisters as they were dying. Watching her son struggle with such depression it almost ended badly but through the grace of God, come back to the light.

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The Soundtrack of My Life

The Soundtrack of My Life

Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.—Berthold Auerbach, poet and author

I can chart tMusic of My Life2.JPGhe course of my life through song from the earliest days when my parents’ hi-fi played Oklahoma, The King and I, My Fair Lady and the Sound of Music. Through teen years, college, marriage, raising kids, business started and shuttered, parents departing too soon, music has been my balm and touchstone to the times mere memory obscures.

My first album was Carol King’s Tapestry. Each song seemed to express the longing of my 13-year-old heart for love and adventure. When I was an insecure girl searching for lasting friendships, You’ve Got a Friend promised a BFF wasn’t far off. Natural Woman gave me hope of future beauty and love. Tapestry spoke of a life fulfilled and no fear of the great beyond. Heady stuff for a tender age. My much loved LP, cover scratched with age now, traveled to college, New Hampshire and Syracuse. Yet the words remain timeless as I listen today on my iPad or phone.

Peace Train Concert 2014

I knew Mark was my musical soul mate through our mutual love for Harry Chapin and Cat Stevens— troubadours singing about everyday moments, family and the search for meaning in life. As newlyweds masquerading as journalists, we sat 10 feet from Cat Stevens turned Yusuf Islam in a press conference on his trip to Syracuse. In 2014 we had the transcendent experience of Cat/Yusuf’s first US concert tour in 20 years, part of the Boston peaceful boomer crowd singing along to the familiar lyrics.

Our wedding first dance was to Cat Stevens’ Foreigner Suite. Pre-wedding, Mark would sing the words to me as we practiced in our living room, “The moment you walked inside my door I knew that I need not look no more…” Father & Son is the primer for advice given to sons eager to explore the world. Adam and Alex have heard the lessons distilled from Cat’s wisdom many times over.

Amazing Grace comforted me through pregnancy, raising babies and our parents’ funerals. The simple melody and words are so consoling although I do not think myself a wretch. I sang this softly so often while carrying the boys and then as a lullaby rocking sleepy babies. Later walking behind caskets, tears choking my throat. Read the rest of this entry

Unconditionally Mom–LTYM

Unconditionally Mom–LTYM

“I raised my sons to be extraordinary, to see possibilities, not roadblocks.”—Vicky D’Agostino, LTYM 2015

On a snowy February day I made a pivotal decision in my journey to becoming a bona fide storyteller.  While stirring my grande pike’s at Starbucks, I saw the poster announcing auditions for the 2015 Listen To Your Mother Baltimore Show  to be performed on  May 9. Listen To Your Mother (LTYM) “features live readings by local writers on the beauty, the beast, and the barely-rested of motherhood, in celebration of Mother’s Day in over 40 cities across the U.S.”  I auditioned…drum roll … I was in! Part of a posse of cast sisters who share the common bonds of motherhood–as in we have mothers, are mothers, do not or do want to be mothers.

Through rehearsals I came to know these fine women in a very intimate reveal of our souls. It was View More: http://jensnyder.pass.us/ltymamazing how quickly the walls came down and the hugs flew as one by one, we listened with awe, empathy, tears and laughter at our stories. We are a vibrant, collective voice of our intensely beautiful, poignant experiences of mothering’s joys and struggles. Some of our stories are gut wrenching. Some are hilarious. Some are both.

On the BIG DAY, our families and friends sat in the auditorium waiting eagerly for our shining star moment. There were plenty of laughs pre-show as we gals gussied up in the dressing View More: http://jensnyder.pass.us/ltymrooms. Lovely producers Taya and Arlene kept us focused and pumped up. Arlene gave us a most special blessing as we held hands in a circle of love that our words would find root in the hearts of our audience who most needed them.

When my turn came at the podium, I was uber-emotional since my sons were in the audience with my darling husband, future son-in-law and good friends. It was the first time I publically shared Adam and Alex’s coming out story. It is at turns raw, honest and funny. I got through it forgetting everything I’d learned about public speaking/performing. But that didn’t matter because it is my love story for my boys. Momma Bear on the scene, tender heart and all.

View More: http://jensnyder.pass.us/ltymWith the utmost respect and love, thank you to my LTYM 2015 cast sisters Heather Pulliam Belcher, Elisabeth Budd-Brown, Lisa Brown, Kim Fossum, Heather Leah Huddleston, Laura Ivey, Arlene Jackson, Taya Dunn Johnson, Taylor King, Kristi Koumentakos, Anne Mathay, Katie McLaughlin, Michelle Reale-Opalesky and Michelle Smith. Special thanks to LTYM founder Ann Imig for your brilliance and passion to create an organization that gives motherhood a voice. Jen Snyder, thanks for your keen eye and elegant photography that captured our day for eternity. You women lift me up with your bravery, grace, wit, wisdom and compassion. I treasure each of you!

View More: http://jensnyder.pass.us/ltymSo here, for your viewing pleasure is our 90 minute show. FYI, this show was on May 9, prior to our excellent U.S. Supreme Court’s national decision on June 26 legalizing gay marriage—#LoveWins! I never doubted it for a minute.

 

#LoveWins

#LoveWins
#LoveWins

No union is more profound than marriage, for it embodies the highest ideals of love, fidelity, devotion, sacrifice, and family.U.S. Supreme Court Justice Anthony Edwards

I am humbled by the beautiful words of Justice Anthony Edwards in his written opinion for marriage equality.

The Happy Couple!

The Happy Couple!

               “No union is more profound than marriage, for it embodies the highest ideals of love, fidelity, devotion, sacrifice, and family. In forming a marital union, two people becoming something greater than once they were. As some of the petitioners in these cases demonstrate, marriage embodies a love that may endure even past death. It would misunderstand these men and women to say they disrespect the idea of marriage. Their plea is that they do respect it, respect it so deeply that they seek to find its fulfillment for themselves. Their hope is not to be condemned to live in loneliness, excluded from one of civilization’s oldest institutions. They ask for equal dignity in the eyes of the law. The Constitution grants them that right.

               The judgment of the Court of Appeals for the Sixth Circuit is reversed. It is so ordered.”

This is a historic day for the LGTBQ community and all the families who have long waited for the right of our loved ones to marry whomever, wherever they wish in our United States. This mother’s heart always believed in the wisdom of our Justices to honor the rights of Americans. For my sons Alex and Adam, my future son-in-law Adam, this is my dream for your lives come true. Not same-sex marriage—just mWedding ringsarriage. Our family will stand along side you, proudly witnessing your loving commitment to cherish, honor and love each for all time.

Now let’s plan that Adams Family wedding. Time’s a-wastin’!!!

The Zipper to the Fat Suit

The Zipper to the Fat Suit
The Zipper to the Fat Suit

“If diets worked, we’d all be thin already.”Sandra Aamodt, neuroscientist and science writer

Several years ago my friend Janelle and I were having another late night work conversation, long after we should have gone home but for the crushing workload. We were lamenting our weight and body conditions. This gorgeous, 5-foot, dark haired beauty who looked pretty tiny to me uttered a phrase that captured my 40 years of searching for the perfect body. “Vicky, I’ve been looking for the zipper to the fat suit all my life too.”

Wham! Just like that, one simple sentence struck my soul center like lightening. All my years of dieting, exercising, self-loathing, success on some programs, epic weight swings were summed up in one thought. If only I could find that zipper…

Little Vicky

Jack-o-Lantern smile!

As I look at old black and white photos, I see a normal size 7-year-old kid with a pixie haircut, deep dimples and sparkling eyes. It would be convenient and fashionable to blame my mom (and Dad) for my early weight issues. Dad was a man short on words of love, but knew how to share his affection through cakes, cookies and Trevalino Bakery’s jelly doughnuts. He worked the night shift at the paper mill and brought me treats to discover in his lunch box each morning. Even now Henry’s Hostess fruit pies whisper love to me though he is gone.

As I approached puberty, my Mom worried I was getting plump. I overheard her tell my dad to stop bringing me treats. She started monitoring my snacking, calling out from our living room, “Tory, what are you getting?” as I rummaged for evening munchies. She suggested I eat a piece of fruit when her delicious pies, chips and Dad’s booty sat on the counter. So I learned the art of sneak eating, stashing forbidden loot stuffed under my shirt as I made a beeline for my room, waving an apple in my hand as I hustled by Mom.

But I won’t blame my mom.

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Getting Married

Getting Married

I promise to love, honor and cherish you all the days of our lives.

Wedding ringsMy son is getting married! On his wedding day, there will be vows exchanged, rings slipped happily on fingers, the traditional mother and son dance, cake cut and flowers gracing tables. Tears dabbed with tissues passed among the well-wishers. My joy will blow the top off my happy meter. My husband Mark and I will pose for photos with the newlyweds and family members who have come together to celebrate Adam’s joy and the beginning of his lifetime entwined with his beloved.

If you’re picturing the scene, you might be seeing my son resplendent in his tuxedo and the bride on his arm in her snowy white finery. But if you know our family, you know the true picture. On my Adam’s arm, is his Adam, aka Marv, also resplendent in his tuxedo. That’s right, my son is about to become half of “The Adams Family,” as my cousin Janice lovingly joked.

For those of you who have religious views about marriage ordained by God, I challenge you to open your minds and hearts. Love is colorblind and gender neutral. Until the day I die and get the chance to talk to God in spirit, I believe a benevolent God wants all of her children to find happiness and love in a partner. Woman and Man, Woman and Woman, Man and Man—doesn’t matter.

What does matter is the cherishing love between spouses. Nurturing each other through the joys married life brings and the sorrow that inevitable comes from life events. Sickness and health. You hope the scale tilts more toward health, but there are no guarantees. Speaking from experience, I am married to a person who honors our wedding vows 100 percent. Mark honors me as his partner, his equal and holds me up with his love and respect, as I do for him.

I want this life for my sons.

The Adams Family

Gay marriage is polarizing Americans. Christians especially. Yet the tides are shifting; Americans are exercising their rights to have equality as 37 states legalized gay marriage. The Supreme Court hearings began Tuesday and the Justices will decide in June how the remaining 13 states must adhere to the Constitution which guarantees equal rights for all people of the United States.

I cannot fathom why 39 percent of Americans (polled by ABC last week according to an NPR news story from Cokie Roberts) think allowing my son and his fiancé who want the right to commit legally to each other undermines the sanctity of marriage. Justice Sonia Sotomayor says, “We are not taking anyone’s liberty away by allowing gay couples to marry.” I fervently hope her wisdom and deep constitutional knowledge prevail for Justice Anthony Kennedy who will likely cast the deciding vote in June.

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Tiara Time

Tiara Time

“They say it’s your birthday. We’re gonna have a good time.”—The Beatles

T&V 50th loveIt’s time for the annual wearing of the tiara. As in, it’s my 57th birthday today and I have several tiaras to choose from. My son Adam bought me an antique one with seed pearls at a dandy little shop in Provincetown several years ago, though it was well past my birthday. I have a 40th birthday version and the one from my dental company job photo shoot where I posed as the tooth fairy (and oh, the dress and wings that came with THAT tiara!) The best one however, is my 50th birthday Audrey Hepburn replica from the movie Roman Holiday. It’s covered in Swarovski crystals and sparkles with intense beams when the light hits it.

I am shameless when it comes to my birthday—telling random strangers wherever I happen to be that it’s my birthday. Because I LOVE THIS DAY! It’s a celebration of living joyfully, appreciation for my parents who made me and fun for my family who have come to accept my narcissism for my special day as a loving quirk.

My family thinks my habit of counting down the days to my birthday is endearing. I write the number of shopping days on my husband’s Ansel Adams work calendar. About 20 days before, I start singing, “It’s almost my birthday!” to the Beatles Birthday tune. Mark loves to tease me when I say, “My birthday is in X days.” He replies sardonically, “It’s your birthday soon?” It’s our fun little game. I would be disappointed if he didn’t play along.

Mark loves to surprise me so my birthday is a natural time to indulge in this. In my 20’s, he arranged a work posse party at Chuck E. Cheese’s so we could play games and swim in the ball pool. On my 40th Mark, my siblings, nieces, nephews and our kids staged a remake of the Wizard of Oz starring me as Dorothy seeking out the wizard to reverse my trip “over the hill.” And of course, the 50th blowout was the best and biggest yet. In between the BIG ONES, there were treasure hunts, dinners lovingly made at home and fancy ones at swanky restaurants, and a trip to the Smithsonian to see the real ruby slippers. Homemade gifts from our sweet sons who reveled in the joy we created. One year, my darling even made me a banana cream pie because my mom always made me that dessert and she had passed on. I love M for trying as baking is not his forte. We still laugh over the pencil eraser texture of the filling which was an odd gray color from the skim milk.

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